


Miscalculations

by nerdyneed



Category: The OA (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 14:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyneed/pseuds/nerdyneed
Summary: Everything Alfonso Sosa did was calculated.He couldn’t afford to make mistakes.Which was why this whole… thing with Steve Winchell was so out of character for him.ORThe story of how Alfonso Sosa fell in love with Steve Winchell sometime between the months before Prairie Johnson comes home and the end of Season One.





	Miscalculations

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as rough kinda-hate sex between the boys, but the feelings just... happened. 
> 
> I'm so sorry.
> 
> I'm looking at an ACTUAL PWP between these two that takes place after French's one-night stand in season 2 and a threesome with French, Steve, and Buck. Please let me know if you're interested in that or a continuation of this into a series.

Everything Alfonso Sosa did was calculated.

 

In every lacrosse game or practice, he planned every step, every move to ensure that he came out unharmed and victorious.

 

He finished every exam after his classmates, even if he knew the content better than them, just to make sure he made no mistakes.

 

Even when he used, he made sure he took just enough to take the edge off, not enough to impair his judgement or put a dent in his carefully maintained personal budget.

 

He couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

 

Which was why this whole… _thing_ with Steve Winchell was so out of character for him.

 

Even while the OA was telling them her story and teaching them the Movements, Alfonso kept an eye on everything. If word got out that he was spending every night in a drug house with a bunch of delinquents, one of his teachers, and a crazy former blind girl with severe PTSD, he would be ruined.

 

But there was something about Steve Winchell that made Alfonso’s brain short-circuit.

 

The first time it happened, Alfonso was sure it was a dream.

 

It was before Prairie Johnson came back and changed their lives. Alfonso was leaving practice just before sunset, still drenched in sweat and in his practice uniform. He was digging in his bag for his keys when a shadow detached itself from the side of the school.

 

“Hey.”

 

Alfonso grit his teeth. “What do you want, Winchell?”

 

“I was going about my business and realized I was short a few bucks.”

 

“What does that have to do with me?” Alfonso asked, carefully maneuvering himself to the driver’s side door of his car to keep some distance between him and Steve.

 

“A few nights ago, you were at the house. I remember you taking a few hits before you left.”

 

“I paid for what I took.” Alfonso Sosa was many things, but he was not a thief.

 

Steve had followed him around to the driver’s side of the car. He leaned against the door, blocking Alfonso’s escape with that slow, lazy confidence of his.He was close enough that Alfonso could smell the tang of alcohol on his breath and weed sticking to his jacket. “You paid for what you _left with._ You didn’t pay for what you took before you left.”

 

Alfonso looked at him with thinly veiled contempt. “You’re the one who offered it to me. I recall you said something about ‘try before you buy.’”

 

Steve laughed lowly. “Listen, French. I don’t make the rules.”

 

Alfonso sighed and set his bag down at his feet. “Fine,” he conceded, pulling out his wallet. He was tired of fighting. “How much do I owe you?”

 

Steve didn’t reply. He was studying Alfonso’s face, looking for something. Alfonso fidgeted, stomping down the urge to bolt. It was getting darker. He had to get home to make dinner for his brothers.

 

“C’mon Steve, what-“

 

Suddenly, the words weren’t in Alfonso’s mouth anymore. They were stuck somewhere between his throat and Steve’s mouth, which was pressed tight against his own.

 

Wait.

 

Steve Winchell was kissing him. His hands were fisted in Alfonso’s shirt, pulling him closer. He was still leaning against Alfonso’s car, and despite smelling like weed and cheap booze, his lips —well, his lips tasted like _lips_. Alfonso knew what those tasted like. He’d kissed some girls over the years.But never guys. Never guys like Steve Winchell. Drug dealers, borderline dropouts, guys who would probably be in prison before their first class reunion.

 

So why was Alfonso’s heart stuttering?

 

Steve was a good kisser —a great kisser, even, Alfonso realized when he apparently lost his mind and relaxed in Steve’s grip. His hands drifted up from where they’d been lying limp at his sides to rest on Steve’s ribs. His mouth eased open, and Steve took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. One of his knees slid between Alfonso’s as they turned toward each other more.

 

Steve held Alfonso tightly, one of his hands leaving his shirt to wrap around the hair at the back of his head and _tug_.

 

Alfonso let out a soft moan into the kiss, which sent him flying back into his body. He stumbled back, breaking the kiss. He was panting as he stared at Steve, who was looking at him like he couldn’t figure him out.

 

“What the hell, Steve?” He meant to sound angry, but his voice came out weaker than he intended it to. He just sounded lost.

 

Steve’s jaw worked as he thought up an answer, and Alfonso had to force himself to look away. The reality of what just happened washed over him. He felt his cheeks grow hot and refused to look Steve in the face.

 

“Forget about the money,” Steve said. He sounded strained. Though he was confused, Alfonso didn’t look at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

 

Then Steve was walking away, leaving Alfonso standing in the empty parking lot, wondering what the hell he was going to do.

 

 

 

In the following months, things changed for Alfonso, but it was all still according to his plans.

 

They met every night with the OA. They were learning things they didn’t think possible. Alfonso wanted to believe it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself see the OA’s stories as anything other than that: stories. But he still went, hanging onto the possibility that maybe, just maybe…

 

He started hanging out with BBA and the others at school. They weren’t necessarily _friends,_ but for some reason, they worked. Alfonso’s calculating mind, Buck’s optimism and belief, Jesse’s unique perspective and humor, BBA’s protectiveness, Steve’s magnetism and loyalty. They were a team, for whatever that meant.

 

In his meager free time, Alfonso had come to some conclusions about himself as well. He told himself it wasn’t because of what happened with Steve in the parking lot: how he liked it, how he refused to even think about wanting a repeat performance. It was just natural curiosity and self-discovery.

 

Turns out, Alfonso Sosa wasn’t completely straight.

 

He found himself doing research —that’s what he preferred to call it— when he should’ve been catching up on the sleep he was missing. He was relieved to find that he was attracted to other men, and not just Steve. Objectively, he knew Steve was a fine specimen. His feelings were probably just a culmination of confusion about college, the OA, scholarships, work, family. His brain knew he liked guys, and Steve was a good-looking guy.

 

And that was that.

 

With that rationalization in place, Alfonso found it easier to be around Steve. He ignored whatever weird feelings he had when Steve stood close to him or guided them through the Movements. He ignored the way his gut clenched when Steve looked at him with pride when he found evidence proving the OA’s story true. He didn’t think about how close they were sitting or how easy it would be to reach out and kiss him again. He ignored the softer side of Steve Winchell, the guy who really did care for others, the guy who needed help. Instead, he focused on helping the OA find Homer and the others. He focused on school. He focused on taking care of his family. He didn’t think about Steve.

 

Then he found the books in OA’s room and things started going fuzzy.

 

That night, after work, after seeing Buck and Jesse looking dejected and Steve livid, he took just a little too much coke. He felt it settle into his brain, dulling the feelings he didn’t want to feel.

 

He dreamt that night, and he dreamt of angels and experiments and books and Steve.

 

Steve.

 

Memories of Steve. Steve looking at him with pride and hope. Steve standing across from him, focused completely on the Movements. Steve laughing at something Jesse said. Steve running into the abandoned house, hair ruffled and face flushed. Steve kissing Alfonso in the parking lot all those months ago.

 

Then they were no longer memories, but something _more_. Steve leaning over him, giving him a smile Alfonso knew was just for him. Steve running his fingers and lips down Alfonso’s neck. Steve straddling Alfonso’s lap, his muscular body a solid, comforting weight on top of him as he whispered teasing words Alfonso didn’t remember in the morning. Steve grinding down against Alfonso. Steve touching Alfonso. Steve’s jaw falling open in pleasure. Steve’s eyes, warm and intense, locked on Alfonso’s as they fell apart.

 

The next morning, Alfonso woke up with a splitting headache, dried tears on his face, and a mess in his shorts.

 

 

 

Alfonso knew the exact moment his plans fell apart.

 

It wasn’t when they heard the first gunshots. It wasn’t when they ducked under the tables. It wasn’t when he locked eyes with his friends and knew what they had to do. It wasn’t when he stood up in front of an armed gunman with BBA and the others. It wasn’t when they did the Movements. It wasn’t even when they turned and saw OA, standing with her hands clasped over her chest, a serene look on her face, the glass in front of her shattered.

 

It was when Steve ran after the ambulance.

 

They all followed until the stoplight, but Steve kept going. He was the one who had complete faith in the OA. He was the one who needed her most.

 

Watching Steve call after OA, begging her to take him with her, Alfonso felt his heart breaking.

 

He dropped to his knees on the pavement, barely noticing when Buck fell beside him and tucked his face into his shoulder, or when Jesse threw his arms around them both, or when BBA put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes were locked on Steve as he ran and ran and ran.

 

And Alfonso knew that he was in love with Steve Winchell.

 

 

 

Alfonso could excuse the miscalculation of falling for the wrong person. After all, he was young and exploring his sexuality. It made sense that he would think he had feelings for the first guy he ever kissed.

 

That didn’t excuse what he did that night.

 

Minutes after he heard the news that Prairie Johnson was dead, he was on his way to the abandoned house. He knew what he would find there. It’s what — _who—_ he was looking for.

 

He let himself into the house and upstairs as quietly as possible. There were no lights other than the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but he didn’t need them to see what he saw.

 

Steve was sitting in the bathtub, knees pulled up to his chest, staring blankly out the window. He didn’t react when Alfonso came in, or when he put down his bag and crawled into the tub beside him.

 

They sat in silence for long minutes. It wasn’t awkward; there were just no words to say. They were grieving. They didn’t know if OA made it to the other side or not. If she found Homer. If she was really dead. All they knew was that they were here, and she was there. Wherever _there_ was.

 

Steve took a deep breath. “Hey. French?”

 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied. Against his better judgement, he put his hand on Steve’s knee, staring at his profile.

 

There was just enough light for Alfonso to see that Steve had obviously been crying. His eyes and nose were red and his cheeks were wet. It was a testament to how much he’d changed that Alfonso couldn’t smell any booze or weed on him. It was out of character for both of them to be stone cold sober right then.

 

Steve turned to him. His eyes were shining.

 

Alfonso kissed him.

 

This was much different from their first kiss all those months ago. They had changed as people, and so did their kissing, apparently. It was slow and gentle at first, without the confusion and malice of their first. Alfonso’s hand was tucked around the back of Steve’s neck, holding him close. His fingers brushed the hair at the base of his neck, making the blond shiver against him.

 

Steve’s hands dug into Alfonso’s forearms, holding him in place as he returned the kiss desperately. Alfonso couldn’t help but feel that despite how awful their lives were right then, this was perfect.

 

They started to shift to face one another, but were met with resistance from the edge of the tub they were still sitting in. As Steve let out a muffled “Shit!” when he bumped his elbow on the edge, Alfonso began laughing. Despite the nerves and every other emotion he was feeling, he found it easy to laugh at something so simple and purely Steve.

 

“I brought some blankets,” Alfonso said. His hand was still in Steve’s hair. He didn’t want to move it. “We could lay them out, get more comfortable?”

 

Without answering, Steve stood up. For a moment Alfonso worried that he’d stepped too far, that he’d messed everything up, but then Steve turned back to him once he was out of the tub and offered him a hand. “Let’s go.”

 

They took the blankets Alfonso had brought and laid them out on the dusty floor where the OA had told them things that changed the way they saw the world. They wasted little time, and soon Steve was falling back onto the blankets with his hoodie off, pulling Alfonso on top of him.

 

Alfonso let his need spill out into this next kiss. He could feel how hard he was in his jeans and knew from leaning against Steve that he was in a similar state. His hands couldn’t find a spot to land, instead brushing every piece of Steve’s toned body that he could find. Soon they were grinding against one another, panting into each other’s mouths.

 

Taking a break for air, Alfonso trailed his mouth down Steve’s jaw and neck, stopping when he found a spot below his left ear that made him huff out a breath and twitch in Alfonso’s grasp.

 

“Do you have…” Steve panted out.

 

Hesitantly, Alfonso nodded. “In my bag.”

 

Steve laughed, making Alfonso jump at the feeling of Steve’s abs contracting against his own. “Did you come here with the intention of deflowering me, French?”

 

“Oh please,” Alfonso scoffed. Feeling cocky from all the hormones, he nudged Steve’s legs further apart and ground down against him harder. Steve threw his head back, his breath catching in his throat while Alfonso grinned down at him. “As if you haven’t been thinking about this for months.”

 

“And you have?”

 

“Yes,” Alfonso admitted, sitting up to pull his long-sleeved shirt over his head. He watched Steve intently as he removed his own shirt. Steve’s legs settled themselves tighter around Alfonso’s waist.

 

“Care to share with the class?”

 

Alfonso paused, the corners of his lips twitching as he held himself up over Steve. “Are you asking me to talk dirty to you, Winchell?”

 

Steve’s chuckles faded. He still looked amused, but intense. “Only if you want to.” He reached out and pulled Alfonso’s bag closer to them, groping around until he found the barely used bottle of lube and a few condoms. Then he leaned up and began sucking on Alfonso’s neck.

 

Elbows suddenly weak, Alfonso lowered himself back down, his and Steve’s bare chests meeting for the first time. Despite the chill of the midnight air, their bodies were warm. Goose bumps erupted on both their arms. “Oh. Okay. Um…” He racked his mind for some of the fantasies he told himself he conjured of him and Steve. “Once, one of the first times I thought about you. We were like this. Well, not exactly, but close.”

 

“How close?”

 

Too turned on to be embarrassed at this point, he responded, “You were on top.”

 

Then Alfonso was on his back, looking up at a grinning Steve as he pulled Alfonso’s pants off. “I could make so many lacrosse jokes right now…”

 

Alfonso coughed. “Actually, you were the bottom.”

 

Steve stopped. “You just said I was on top.”

 

“I did,” Alfonso said. “You were on top of me, but I was fucking you.”

 

“Oh,” Steve breathed. Alfonso watched his abdominals twitch, as if hearing Alfonso say that riled him up.

 

“Would you like that?” Alfonso asked, reaching out to tilt Steve’s chin up. The blond was blushing, something that brought Alfonso great pride.

 

Steve nodded then scrambled to get his jeans off. When he crawled on top of Alfonso, their erections were only separated by their underwear. It felt better than Alfonso could ever have imagined. Feeling bold, he ran his hands down Steve’s bare back and to his ass, where he traced his hole through his boxers.

 

Steve let out a stuttered breath, leaning down to hide his face in Alfonso’s neck. “If you don’t do something, I’m going to go out of my goddamn mind.”

 

“What do you want me to do?”

 

“I dunno. Keep talking, touch my dick, I don’t know. Just stop —sitting there.”

 

“Fine,” said Alfonso. He grabbed Steve by the thighs and flipped them again, so Steve was on the bottom, mostly naked with his legs spread. He gasped, looking up at Alfonso with eyes wide enough to be mistaken as innocent if Alfonso didn’t know him so well. Feeling a rush at being able to best Steve, Alfonso slid a hand down the blond’s front to feel his erection through his boxers. Steve gasped, arching up into his touch as his eyes squeezed shut. “Better?”

 

Seemingly at a loss for words, he nodded.

 

Alfonso made quick work of taking off Steve’s underwear. Taking a moment to ground himself as he saw a man —or anyone, really— fully naked for the first time. Alfonso”s gaze slid from Steve’s chest and thighs, which would both give the Statue of David a run for its money, to stare down at Steve’s cock. It was fully hard, laying almost innocently in a bed of rusty blond curls. He was uncut and a bit of precum was dripping from the tip. Alfonso caught his breath, feeling more heat pool in his stomach as he licked his lips.

 

“You can see your cake and eat it too, you know.”

 

Alfonso snapped his gaze back up to Steve’s face as he spoke. He looked remarkably smug for someone who was laying fully naked under one of his friends on the floor of a drug house in the middle of the night. He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, watching Alfonso with a smirk.

 

“I’m not sure that’s the right wording,” said Alfonso.

 

“Does it matter? God, I should’ve known you’d be a wise-ass even when you’re about to go down on somebody.”

 

“I’m about to go down on you?” Alfonso teased, laying down on his stomach between Steve’s knees to rest his chin on the blond’s thigh. Now _he_ was the one playing coy, looking up at Steve through his lashes.

 

Steve chuckled, staring up at the ceiling. “I sure hope so. I want you to. If the way you were licking your lips a second ago is anything to go by, I think you want to too.”

 

Alfonso bit his lip. “I’ve never—“

 

Steve shrugged. “I can’t imagine it’s too hard. Just think of what you like and do it.”

 

“No, I mean I’ve never really done anything with anyone before.”

 

Steve froze. “Never?”

 

Alfonso shook his head. “I made out with a few girls. Felt them up a bit. Never got much further than that.”

 

Steve groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Christ, French. Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“What? Would it have made a difference? Would you have lit some candles and made a bed of rose petals?”

 

“No, but maybe I would’ve had the decency to fuck you on a real bed the first time.”

 

A rush of heat flooded Alfonso, both from arousal and affection. He hid his face against Steve’s leg.

 

“Aww, feeling shy, baby?” Steve teased, reaching down to run a hand through the front of Alfonso’s dark hair.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Thought you were trying to fuck me?”

 

Alfonso went to bite Steve’s thigh but ended up kissing it instead. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

 

“Why don’t you try to get more acquainted with mine?”

 

“Are you sure?” Alfonso said. “We don’t have to…”

 

“I want to,” Steve said, holding Alfonso’s head between his hands. There was a time, Alfonso thought, not so long ago, that he would never have let Steve Winchell touch him like that without fearing for his safety. The same could probably be said for Steve letting Alfonso so close to his junk. “I really want to, Fre-“ He paused, chewing on his lip. “Alfonso.”

 

Alfonso smiled up at him. “Fine, Steve. I want to, too.”

 

“Then get on with it,” Steve urged, the bottle of lube that had temporarily been forgotten in his hand again.

 

Alfonso took it from him and set it aside for a moment, wanting to go on with Steve’s previous suggestion. He pretended he knew what he was doing and took Steve’s waiting cock in his hand. He heard the blond take a breath. He squeezed it tighter, trying to remember what felt best when he touched himself. Taking a moment to slick his hand with spit, he began pumping Steve’s cock in a slow but steady rhythm. Steve’s breath picked up and he tilted his head back onto the blankets.

 

Emboldened by his reactions, Alfonso leaned forward and licked the head.

 

Steve groaned, his fingers sinking deeper into Alfonso’s hair, holding him against his body.

 

Alfonso licked around the head, seeing which spots Steve liked best. Just listening and watching Steve —and occasionally feeling him twitch in his hand— made Alfonso unconsciously start grinding against the floor. He started sucking on the head, still pulling on the shaft and gaging Steve’s reactions.

 

“God, Alfonso. That’s so good. Keep going.”

 

Alfonso let out a muffled moan around Steve and started taking him deeper. He could only get a few inches in before his throat started tightening up, threatening to gag him. He pushed as far as he could and coughed around Steve.

 

“Oh fuck,” Steve breathed. He pulled Alfonso back by the hair to look him in the eye. “That’s so hot, oh my god.”

 

“Yeah?” Alfonso asked, unsure. “I’m not bad at it?” He winced at the insecurity in his voice. He just really wanted this to be good for Steve.

 

In lieu of a reply, Steve pulled him up by the hair to kiss him again, licking the taste of his own precum from Alfonso’s lips.

 

That was a good enough answer for Alfonso.

 

He went back to work on Steve, taking as much of him as he could while still stroking the rest and using his tongue. It was a lot to focus on all at once, especially with the lust clouding his senses. But it was worth it to see Steve lose it a little.

 

He pulled back for a second to uncap the lube and put some on his fingers.

 

“I’m assuming you haven’t done this either?” Steve asked.

 

“Only to myself,” Alfonso said quietly.

 

Steve cleared his throat, sitting up on his elbows to look down at Alfonso. Alfonso watched him swallow a few times before he spoke. “We’re going to revisit that again later. Just use as much lube as you feel necessary. Better to have too much than too little.”

 

“You’ve done this before?”

 

Steve shrugged. “A few times.”

 

That was not the answer Alfonso was expecting. But this wasn’t the time for discussions of previous sexual experience. He added a little more lube to his fingers and lifted one of Steve’s legs over his shoulders to further expose him. He rubbed his slicked fingers around Steve’s hole, trying to get out of his head.

 

“Hey,” Steve said, poking Alfonso in the head with the toes of the foot that was slung over his shoulder. “It’s sex, not calculus.”

 

“Calculus doesn’t make me this nervous.”

 

“I won’t break. Just don’t ram it in dry and I’ll be fine.”

 

Alfonso laughed. “How are you so blasé about this?”

 

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Alfonso chose that moment to slip the first finger in. His mouth hung open, no sound coming out for a long moment. Alfonso began to panic, thinking he’d messed up. Then Steve panted out, “I’m just pretending to be chill. On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.”

 

Alfonso relaxed at the admission, turning now with single-minded focus to stretching Steve out. He moved one finger in and out, spreading the lube and generally getting used to the feeling and idea of being inside another person. After a few moments, he added a second, letting Steve have a moment to himself before he kept moving.

 

He started curling his fingers, looking for Steve’s prostate. He’d never found it himself, but he’d heard how great it felt from the internet. Although the internet probably shouldn’t be trusted for much information-gathering, especially sex ed. He was beginning to wonder if the prostate was just another internet legend when he moved his fingers in a way that made Steve’s abdomen curl in on itself. The hand that was still in Alfonso’s hair clenched almost painfully, a litany of Alfonso’s name littered with curses and pleas fell from Steve’s mouth as Alfonso tried the move again.

 

“Fuck! Ah, ah…” Steve panted. He used his grip on Alfonso to urge his mouth back to his cock. “Please, Alfonso. Just-“

 

Alfonso went back to work on his dick, working mainly on autopilot as the sight, sound, feel, and taste of Steve flooded his senses. This was undeniably the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed. He found it hard to focus on anything other than breathing and moving his mouth and fingers as carefully as he could. Steve didn’t seem to mind, still arching his back into Alfonso’s touch. He took turns pressing down onto his fingers and pushing up into his mouth. Alfonso frankly wasn’t putting much effort into the movements of either, but Steve didn’t seem to mind.

 

“Mmmmm, French, please. Just get on with it. Can we just-“

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he replied, pulling off to speak for only a moment before he went back to work. He eased a third finger into Steve, knowing it would only help them in the long run.

 

“You won’t, Jesus-“ Steve pulled Alfonso off his cock and flipped them so he was on top again, looking down at Alfonso with a heated look on his face. He took a moment to speak before he dove down and began mouthing at Alfonso’s neck. “Get one of those condoms on.”

 

Alfonso rushed to comply, awkwardly shuffling out of his underwear with Steve still on his lap, completely distracting and utterly useless. He groped around for the condoms with one hand while the other groped Steve, running across every inch of skin he could reach. He found the condoms and put one on as gracefully as he could —which was to say, not very. Again, Steve didn’t seem to mind.

 

Steve shuffled back so his hole was positioned right over Alfonso’s previously neglected cock and poured some lube onto his hand to slick it up. Alfonso was harder than he ever remembered being. His heart was pounding embarrassingly loud. Looking up at Steve, he felt the emotions he’d been feeling come rushing back. He remembered all that had happened in the past day, the way Steve had run after the ambulance, his realization about how he felt for Steve.

 

Just as Steve was about to sink down onto him, Alfonso put his hands on Steve’s hips, digging in to make him stop.

 

“Ow. What? What’s wrong?” Steve looked mildly concerned, but mostly annoyed at the interruption.

 

“You should know that this isn’t just sex for me,” Alfonso heard himself say. Oh, what the hell. Might as well go for it. “Steve, things have changed for me these past few months. The way I feel about you has changed. I didn’t want to admit it. I thought I was just confused about my sexuality or whatever. But when… when what happened today happened, all I was thinking about was you. Yes, I care about OA and I wanted to get her to see Homer or whatever, but… I realized that, when you were running after her and you were…” He sighed, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Fuck it. I sorta love you, okay? I watched your heart breaking when they took OA and I realized that I more than tolerate you. So yeah. This isn’t just sex for me. And I thought you should know.”

 

He shut his eyes, unwilling to watch Steve inevitably get weirded out and make fun of him or whatever. He felt that Steve was sitting still, making no move to let go of Alfonso or move closer. He braced himself for the inevitable rejection, hoping he would be able to hold it together. He didn’t have any drugs left, and he was fucking things up with his dealer, so he would have to deal with it the way he used to before he discovered coke: running until his legs were numb.

 

He was prepared to bolt when he felt Steve slip his fingers under his head and pull him up. His eyes flew open, watching Steve’s face as he slid something soft under Alfonso’s head. He glanced over to see the sleeve of Steve’s hoodie poking out from under his head.

 

Steve wasn’t running. He was using their shirts as a pillow for Alfonso.

 

“You really are a dumbass.”

 

Alfonso was stunned. “What?”

 

“Do you honestly think I didn’t know? I’ve been waiting for months for you to get your head out of your ass long enough to make a move. Why do you think I kissed you last year in the parking lot?”

 

“You were drunk. You’d been smoking. You never mentioned it. I assumed you didn’t remember.”

 

“I remembered. I was… embarrassed that I did it that way, but I didn’t regret it. You kissed me back. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it’s what I wanted.” As if to prove his point, he leaned down to kiss Alfonso again. It was brief, and when he pulled back, Alfonso tried to follow him. Steve pushed him down with a laugh. “I tried being a dick to you to see if it changed how I felt, but it just made me angrier at myself. I wanted you to figure things out yourself. You have so much going for you. I didn’t want to fuck up all your plans.”

 

It was too late for that, Alfonso thought.

 

“So what does that mean? How do you feel about me?” Alfonso’s heart was slamming in his chest. In the years to come, he would recognize this day as the most emotional day of his life. Fear, grief, confusion, love, anxiety —he felt them all that day.

 

“I sorta love you too, asshole.”

 

Then Steve was lowering himself down onto Alfonso’s cock and he didn’t even have the time —or the brain power— to think about it anymore.

 

He dimly processed that he made a noise, something guttural and punched-out, but he didn’t care. Steve was hot and tight, strong and lube-slicked around him. Alfonso heard him making noises of his own, noises that Alfonso felt from where his hands were still resting on Steve’s waist. He was clenching down on Alfonso, making him see stars.

 

“Oh, fuck. Steve.”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, eyes looking faraway. Once he was fully seated, he planted his hands on Alfonso’s chest and took a second to breathe.

 

“You good?” Alfonso asked.

 

Steve nodded, tilting his head back as Alfonso watched him clench his jaw a few times. “It’s a lot.”

 

Making a note to joke about how big Steve thought his cock was later on, Alfonso trailed his fingers down to Steve’s thighs. One hand drifted to his cock, but Steve slapped it away. “Not yet.”

 

“Okay,” Alfonso said, resting his head against Steve’s makeshift pillow and watching Steve for a while. He was gorgeous, Alfonso thought. In general, yes, but seeing him with his face scrunched in pleasure just from Alfonso’s cock filling him… well, it was enough to stroke even the meekest man’s ego.

 

Steve started moving, his muscles working under Alfonso’s hands as he lifted himself up and sank back down. They both groaned.

 

“I’m not gonna last too long, either,” Alfonso said. He wasn’t very ashamed of the admission.

 

Steve nodded, picking up his pace. Soon he was bouncing on Alfonso’s lap at a steady pace, pulling them both deeper into pleasure. Alfonso was panting, letting out moans every few thrusts. Steve was humming and groaning under his breath almost constantly.

 

Alfonso felt Steve’s legs begin to shake —whether from pleasure or exertion, he wasn’t sure— and told him to stop. “Get up on your feet. Brace yourself on my knees.”

 

Steve did as he asked, leaning back and watching as Alfonso braced his feet on the ground and got a firm grip on Steve’s hips. He started rolling his hips up into Steve, hoping to hit his prostate to get him off first.

 

“Ohhhh fuck,” Steve breathed. As Alfonso watched, a ripple went through his abdominals. He clenched tighter around Alfonso and almost slipped. Alfonso held him up and kept thrusting into him. “God, you feel so good, French. So deep inside me.”

 

“I want you to cum first,” Alfonso panted. He was basically pleading at this point.

 

Steve nodded frantically. “Okay, okay.” He started to reach for his cock but started falling over when he did. He whined deep in his throat. Alfonso would make fun of him for it later. For now, it was just too fucking hot to comment on.

 

“Can you cum without touching?”

 

Steve thought for a moment. “I haven’t before. But-but I think I might.”

 

Alfonso smirked. “Good.”

 

He rolled his hips in earnest, wanting to make the gorgeous man above him —the man he loved, who loved him— cum all over both of them. He watched Steve’s face: redder than he’d ever seen it, brows scrunched together, frantic eyes locked on Alfonso’s. His mouth moved like he wanted to say something, but his moans kept stealing his words.

 

Then, like someone had hit him with a bat, he curled in on himself, disrupting Alfonso’s thrusts. His legs slipped and he fell back onto his knees. He hid his face in Alfonso’s neck again as he shook and trembled his way through his orgasm. He clenched tightly around Alfonso as his cock spurted out between their stomachs. He was panting Alfonso’s name frantically as he came down.

 

Alfonso chuckled at him, pressing a kiss into his shoulder. “Damn, baby.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Mmmm. But I’m not done yet.”

 

Alfonso adjusted his grip on Steve, wrapping his arms around him. He started thrusting again, slower and gentler then before. Still, Steve twitched and gasped as the sensations became too much. He didn’t protest, though, so Alfonso took that to mean it was okay to keep going.

 

He didn’t have to wait long. It only took a few thrusts for him to cum into the condom, biting into Steve’s shoulder as he did. His toes clenched and his eyes rolled back as he made a noise that came from deep in his gut.

 

They lay together afterward, panting into one another and sharing the same air. They were both shaking. Then Steve turned his head to Alfonso and kissed him, his hands sliding back into his dark hair. Alfonso held him close, not willing to let him go.

 

So much was uncertain about their future. Alfonso’s plans had been effectively derailed. He knew he couldn’t go off to college without making an effort to keep Steve with him. He wasn’t sure if news of the shooting would get out and effect his college applications or scholarships. He didn’t know if his mom would even let him go to college now.

 

Then there was everything with the OA. Did she cross over? Did she find Homer? Did something go wrong and she really was dead? Was it all really bullshit, just the stories of a woman who’d been kept in captivity for seven years?

 

Alfonso watched the sun rise through the window of the abandoned house from his spot on the floor. Steve was curled up against him under the blankets, sleeping without a care in the world. They would have to talk in the morning. They needed a game plan.

 

But for now, Alfonso let himself curl an arm around Steve, holding him as close as he could get.

 

There would be time to make plans when they woke up.


End file.
